My Father Was A Werewolf

My father was a werewolf and he roamed the countryside

His fangs were long and sharp, his territory was wide

Along the way he sang his songs and sang them out of tune

He left a trail of tears and grief beneath the yellow moon

In a far-off village I heard he broke some hearts

I guess young hearts break easily in those foreign parts

Drunken frenzy has no fear, no shame and no remorse

There were burning bridges left behind and a hundred broken doors


Come all ye wankers, hear the story of the beast that stunk

Buy me a whiskey and a beer, I'm not completely drunk

If you have loose change about you, ring those service bells,

and if this story spooks your wits, I'll tell you something else.

On a night-time rampage he encountered some old friends

and left them lying in a pool of blood, this is where that story ends

When he came home next morning, he was all smile and charm

By the dirt under his fingernails I knew he'd done some harm.

My playground was a field of thorns behind a sandy hill

Grown-ups could not come there against the childrens' will

A haunted house stood in that field, all derelict and torn

I played there with the bones of the damned and the ghosts of the forlorn


Come all ye... 

I believe that I'm in love right now, a feeling that remains

is a twisting pulse inside my head and a bloodrush in my veins.

That girl is sweet beyond compare, she is my only one

But my father was a werewolf and I am a werewolf's son

Yes, my father was a werewolf, that makes me a werewolf's son.